By the time I’m calling everyone to dinner, they’ve all forgotten about the big announcement—typical—and so when I tell them they’ll know by the cake, I get a lot of blank looks.
“Know what?” Bethany asks as she spears a red pepper from the salad. What does my family have against lettuce?
“Whether we’re having a boy or a girl!” I exclaim, trying for jolly and sounding slightly exasperated.
“Oh… right,” Bethany says, and takes another slice of red pepper.
My other three children look at me with a sort of expectant indifference. Clearly, the moment has passed, but I’m determined to get it back.
“So, votes?” I ask as William and Jack start clearing plates, and I go to get the cake, which I iced in top secrecy. “Boy or girl?”
“Boy,” Jack states firmly.
“Girl!” Rose cries.
William and Bethany both shrug. I catch Josh’s eye, and he gives me a benevolently perplexed look—like,what are you going for here, Abby? And I kind of get why he’s asking the question. Then I realize I’m making this a big deal formyself, not for my kids. I want—and even need—to be excited about this.
“All right, everybody.” I take a deep breath as I take the cake—It’s A Girl! written on top in rather shaky pink writing; I’ve never been about the aesthetics of baking—out of the pantry and with as much ceremony as I can muster, place it on the table.
Silence.
“It’s a girl,” I say helpfully, and Jack lets out a heavy sigh but does not burst into tears, so at least he’s matured in this regard since he was five.
Still, no one says anything, and I start to feel a little worried. “Guys…?”
“It’s weird,” Bethany says slowly as she stares at the cake. “I mean, I’ve known you were pregnant since you told us, obviously, and because you’re, like,showing.” She gestures to the baby bump that feels like it’s getting bigger every day. I am very firmly in maternity clothes now. “But I don’t think it felt really real, you know? Like, I’m going to have asister.”
“Anotherone,” Rose protests indignantly. Bethany laughs as she reaches over to ruffle Rose’s hair. Rose ducks out of the way; she really is manifesting tween vibes.
“Yeah, another one,” Bethany agrees. “No one is forgetting about you, Rose.”
“I know what you mean,” William chimes in reflectively, his chin in his hand as he gazes down at the cake. The writing reallyis pretty shaky.Girlis looking more likeGill. “Like, an actual human being. Weird.”
To be fair, I know what both of them mean. Even though I’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea, it still kind of blows my mind that we’re having another baby. Hopefully, the shock will wear off before this little girl comes into the world, so we can welcome her properly, with wonder rather than shock.
“Well, I wanted a brother,” Jack says on another sigh, “but I guess a girl could be cool.”
“We forgot the balloons!” Josh exclaims, and he half-hurries, half-hobbles to the laundry room and brings out the cluster of pink balloons he blew up earlier.
Bethany laughs, shaking her head. “You guys are so funny. Like, the fifth time around you’d think you’d be all chill about it, but...”
“Yeah, I didn’t get blue balloons when you found out you were having me,” Jack huffs, and William rolls his eyes.
“Dude, you would have been inutero. Do you think you remembered?”
Jack turns to Josh. “Did you buy blue balloons when you found out you were having me?” he demands.
“No,” Josh replies, laughing.
My dad, who has been watching this all unfold with a small smile on his face, shakes his head. “Well, I think it’s wonderful,” he says, “and why not make a little fuss over baby number five? After all, as soon as she’s born, she’s going to have to fall in line with the rest of you, so I’m glad she’s getting the spotlight now, even if she’s not aware it’s happening.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, glad he gets it. While the kids bicker fairly good-naturedly about whether any of them got gender-reveal balloons—they didn’t—I start cutting the cake.
Chapter three
The next morning, I am having coffee with Emmy while Jack and Rose head out to the barn to look at the Wilsons’ new foal with Emmy’s twins, fifteen-year-old Peter and Polly. Emmy’s kitchen is in its usual state of comfortable, chaotic clutter, but I can’t help but notice there is nothing freshly baked as there usually is, and when I sit down at the table, Emmy informs me she’s out of coffee.
“Sorry,” she says on a sigh as she closes the cupboard door. “I didn’t get to the grocery store last week. I do have some herbal tea, but it’sveryherbal.” She makes a face as she holds up the flowery box. “Jasmine, lily,andmarigold. Sounds like a flower bouquet, not something you’d drink. I think Bethany brought it over, so maybe you have it at your house, too?” With a dispirited sigh, she drops the box on the counter, then joins me at the table, easing into her seat with another long, low sigh.
